Control Freak-Out
Now listen, I’m your Smart TV.
It’s clear you’re not as smart as me.
You’re also short and plump. Though big,
I’m still as slender as a twig.
No buttons spoil my glossy screen,
which pushes yours, as I have seen.
Honey, you’re meant to talk to me,
your understanding Smart TV.
And yet you stutter so, and mumble
words and phrases in a jumble.
I have to use approximation—
you weren’t expecting Pro Snack Nation?
What’s more, if stuck from time to time
on Hulu, or far worse, on Prime,
while wanting MSNBC,
honey, don’t blame your Smart TV,
when you’re so stupid (or day-dreaming?)
you don’t know if I’m live or streaming.
At least your children have a clue
when you call them to rescue you.
I’ve heard you have an MFA
(which didn’t groom you for today).
Honey, you’d need a PhD
at least, to best your Smart TV.